


Wishful Thinking, Lover Boy

by Vale (kowarubunga)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Biphobia, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Korean Keith (Voltron), M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, pidge also speaks korean, they/them pronouns for Pidge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2018-12-13 21:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11768763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kowarubunga/pseuds/Vale
Summary: When he heard the words "group project" pass through the lips of his actually really kind astrophysics teacher, Keith's heart dropped. It went all the way down, through his body and the floor, far past the point of no return. Keith was going to have to sidle up to some other space nerd and hope to any otherworldly being out there that his measly year and a half of private english tutoring would be enough to get through one damn group project.At least it was actually a partnership, so Keith wouldn't have his post meeting migraines he usually gets from trying to understand 3 other people speaking much faster than he could translate. Now, he would barely get a headache, a small pain in his head constantly telling him he should've taken his lessons more seriously before he moved. Maybe, just maybe, if he had, he wouldn't be so far behind his fluent peers.Barely a month into the new school year and Keith was already regretting his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ahaha hi! i haven't written a fanfic properly in about two years so if i'm a lil rusty, apologies! i finally recently sucked it up and watched voltron and this is baaaasically my child (i saw someone mention korean keith on tumblr and i RAN with it)
> 
> i've planned for this to be around 10 maybe less chapters (so les hope i can stick with it!) i can't promise on deadlines because school is about to start and i'm currently stuck in band camp until it does, but i'll try to get them out with not-too-long intervals in between!
> 
>  
> 
> **update: now there's a summary!**

When he heard the words "group project" pass through the lips of his usually really kind astrophysics professor, Keith's heart dropped. It went all the way down, through his body _and_ the floor, far past the point of no return. Keith was going to have to sidle up to some other space nerd and hope to any otherworldly being out there that his measly year and a half of private english tutoring would be enough to get through one damn group project. 

At least it was actually a partnership, so Keith wouldn't have his post meeting migraines he usually gets from trying to understand 3 other people speaking much faster than he could translate. Now, he would barely get a headache, a small pain in his head constantly telling him he should've taken his lessons more seriously before he moved. Maybe, just maybe, if he had, he wouldn't be so far behind his fluent peers.

Barely a month into the new school year and Keith was already regretting his life.

His partner? The douchey looking kid from the back of the class, who kinda smelled like an underground hookah bar every time he passed by Keith. Lance McClain, a self proclaimed "flirt genius" and the only person in the tiny college town to get caught in possession of less than a gram (is he the world's shittiest stoner or was he just running low?). Keith had barely said a word to him for the past two years that they've been in the same major, having at least one class together. He's pretty sure Stoner McClain tried to talk to him once, but with Keith constantly a nervous wreck and socially oblivious, he's sure he didn't respond (or if he did, it was probably rude). At least he was kinda cute, right?

 

ㅇ

 

The professor left his students to go find their partner and, hopefully, work on said project. This led Keith to walking up the small set of stairs to where his proverbial doom sat, head buried in a textbook that had next to nothing to do with astrophysics. Keith cleared his throat once he was close to the one person his project grade relied on.

"H-Hello," he said, pronunciation shot to shit with nerves. Keith internally cursed himself. Lance barely looked up at him, but did a double take when he saw who was in front of him.

Placing his pencil down next to what Keith assumed was homework, Lance said, "I guess you're, uh, my partner." Keith just nodded, not really trusting himself with words at the moment after his spectacular failure with hello. The two stayed in the their awkward i-don't-hate-you-but-i-also-don't-like-you silence for a minute, Keith silently cursing himself once more for not caring during his English lessons in middle school.

"Are you gonna sit or just stand there until the class is over?" Lance commented, going back to his presumed homework. Keith dropped his head in embarrassment and took the empty seat on Lance's right, setting down a couple books.

"So, uh, we should probably start working on it," Lance said, still distracted by his other course work. Keith made a sound of approval, nodding although he was sure Lance wasn't looking in his direction. The noise caught Lance's attention however.

"Do you just not talk beyond hello?" He was looking up from his course work now, staring holes into Keith's head. _Dick_.

"I do." Keith still wasn't looking at the boy next to him.

"How about a...full sentence?" His tone was now more playful than curious, a smirk raised on his--what Keith assumed (hoped)--soft lips. Though, his joking manner was lost on Keith, who was just trying to get through the class without their conversation floating to his lack of verbal skills (but alas, it was there already).

"I'm not trying to be a dick, if that's what you are thinking," Keith said, mustering up just enough courage to look the other kid in the eye. Lance's smirk dropped a bit at the comment.

"I wasn't- I didn't mean it like that," he said, back pedaling as fast as he could. _First real conversation with the brooding cutie and he already managed to piss him off? Nice one, Lance!_

"Let's just focus on the project, hmm?" Keith steered the conversation away from himself, regain some level of confidence in himself (at least enough he didn't feel like resorting to two word responses).

Sometime, near the end of the class, Keith got a message in a language Lance couldn't recognize, although he could barely see the screen of the mullet boy's phone. Keith glanced at it and a small grin broke the sternness of his face for a second before he closed his phone, turning it over so he couldn't be distracted again. Lance was reeling because of the grin- Keith was downright _beautiful_ , though he would definitely deny thinking so if he was asked. He couldn't stop sneaking glances toward the other, in any case. Lance wondered how such a solitary and broody guy could be so pretty.

"What?" The question pulled Lance back into the real world. Keith had caught him staring. Lance could feel the heat rising to his face as he all but shoved his head into his notes.

"N-Nothing!" he said, a bit too loud, making the two girls in front of him turn around with more annoyed than confused looks. Lance didn't mind them, still in his own head, not catching the smirk that tugged at Keith's lips.

 

“It’s just about three,” the professor said, turning to face his class from his desk, “so, I’ll let you all go a few minutes early.” A pair from the front fist bumped each other and whooped at the news. Lance turned to Keith, forcing himself not to think about how good the other looked.

“When do you wanna meet up?” he asked, trying to sound cool and nonchalant. “Holifield said we'd only get one other day in class…” He trailed off, hoping Keith would step in so he didn't feel like a fool. Keith seemed to get the message though, and wrote something down on a piece of paper he tore from his notebook and handed it to Lance.

“Text me whenever,” he said, picking up his things and all but running out the classroom.

 

ㅇ

 

“Pidge,” Keith called into his single dorm, “please tell me you're here!” A hand shot up from the couch, one that was holding a 3DS. 

“Whatcha need,” they said, not moving from their perch. Keith dropped his bag at the door and quickly walked to the cheap thing.

“Lance _motherfucking_ McClain is my partner for this thing in astro,” Keith said, leaning over backwards on the edge of the couch.

“This is a problem because…?” Pidge barely glanced at him.

“Because! He..he…” He couldn't come up with something. Lance was great, but Keith knew it was because he was so _great_ he was a nervous wreck, which made the partnership an issue. Keith couldn't tell Pidge that though, they would have a fucking _field day_ with that information.

“You can't come up with anything because there's nothing to worry about.” Keith bristled at the words.

“I fucked up saying hello to him Pidge, _hello_.” They put down their device and looked Keith straight in the eyes, finally seeing the light of _why_ Keith was freaking out.

“You're an idiot,” they said before returning back to what Keith was pretty sure was Pokémon. So, no. They didn't see the light.

“He makes me nervous, Pidgey, I can't speak around him and that makes me even more nervous. How am I gonna do this project if I can't _talk to the guy_?”

“Suck it up?” Keith glared at them even though the couldn't see it.

“When did that ever help you?” Pidge sighed. “Come to our first meeting just in case I fuck up, please.”

“Hell no.” Pidge put down their game again, looking into Keith’s eyes. They saw legitimate anxiety, something they could relate to. A couple minutes of staring between the two wore Pidge down enough for, “Buy dinner tonight and I'll think about it.” Which, in Pidge terms, basically meant yes. Keith moved to hug them, but they swooped away just in time, 3DS back in their hand.

“You're the best!” Keith said, standing back up normally to hop over the back. “Wanna do some real gaming?”

ㅇ

Lance almost stumbled through the glass doors to the campus gym. The receptionist gave him a small smile, not saying anything as he passed her to get to the yoga room. He was praying that Allura didn't have a class going on now because his dilemma needed to be handled _now_. His hoping came out true. Allura was sat at the front of the room, scrolling on her phone, the diamond ring on her finger sparkling in the dim light.

Lance opened the door quickly saying, “Allura, I need some help.” She looked up from her phone, face full of concern. “There's this guy in one of my classes who's really pretty, lights up the whole fucking room when he smiles, and I think I have a thing for him.”

“I fail to see a problem here, Lance,” she said through a smile, patting the mat she was sitting on. Lance sat.

“I don't want to have a thing for him, Allura,” he said, looking up. “I've told you what my family is like, yeah?” Allura nodded. “I can't risk the bond I have with all of them over a pretty guy in my class…” He voice trailed as he turned his head to look at Allura, her eyes fond, knowing, caring.

“I know this is extremely difficult, Lance,” she said, placing a hand over his.

“But?”

“ _But_ , don't focus on what you think you're family wants, focus on what you want.” Lance looked away. It wasn't as simple and his desires versus his family's desires. Most of his desires _were_ his family's. And, if his _abuela_ kicking out her daughter after she shacked up with a guy in high school was anything to go by, Lance even _thinking_ about a guy romantically was grounds for familial excommunication.

“Imagine what my _abuela_ would say if she heard me say that about a guy,” Lance said, blinking away the tears that stung his eyes. He hadn't even met his aunt, hadn't even heard about her, until his mom was dragging him to her _funeral_. His _abuela_ was ruthless.

“Times change, Lance,” Allura said, moving her hand from his to his back, rubbing small circles as a tear fell from Lance’s face.

“Yeah, but she doesn't.”

ㅇ

“Keith, look,” Pidge said as the two were waiting in the back of the library for Lance, “you know what you're doing, you know the words. Don't rely on me, I'm only here for moral support.” They pulled out their laptop, determined to finish a contract they were given a couple days ago. Keith just stared at them, trying to muster up the gusto to have another full English conversation (fancy vocabulary that comes with astrophysics and all) with Lance McClain.

Lance McClain, who was five minutes late.

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly, pulling out his notebook as soon as he sat down. Keith just nodded his head, which gained him a kick in the shin from Pidge, who was watching everything carefully. Keith stifled the groan that came out of his throat. 

“It's fine, uhm, this is Pidge,” Keith said, motioning to the silent teen. “They're a friend from high school.” Lance nodded, confused as to _why_ they were there, but he didn't question it.

"Okay, so," Lance dove right into the project, not wasting anytime, or letting his mind sit on the fact that Keith Kogane was sitting right next to him and that he smelled _really really nice_ \--

Astrophysics. Lance couldn't afford to let himself be distracted by the boy, so he distracted himself from him.

ㅇ

"Break?" Keith asked, leaning away from Lance and toward Pidge. Lance sensed that he needed some time with his friend so he nodded, muttering a quick yeah before bolting to the vending machines at the front of the building.

Lance checked his phone for the first time since he got to the library. A handful of texts from Hunk- _clubbing on a thursday?_ \- and a couple from Allura as well.

 

**Allura 11:23am**  
_Don't ignore your feelings, Lance. I am positive your family won't disown you for what you cannot help. Embrace, don't hide._

 

**Allura 11:25am**  
_Also, I have a dance class at the studio we used to go to next Friday. Try to make it?_

 

Lance sighed into his bottle of soda. Allura wasn't making this any easier. Not like it was easy in the first place, he was denying his nature after all. He could've done without Allura's advice that made way too much sense. He could've done without Keith being completely oblivious to how gorgeous he actually was. He could've done without a godsend of a professor giving him simultaneously the worst and best partner.

Lance could've done without a lot of things.

Instead of dwelling, Lance finished off his bottle and made his way back to the table. He only paused when he heard Keith's voice, he just wasn't speaking English. Pidge responded in English, though, as if they understood what he was saying.

"I told you, Keith, you're an idiot," is what Pidge had said. Lance couldn't even begin to understand what Keith was saying.

"나는 내가 엉망이 될까봐 두려워하는 것을 도울 수 없다!" Keith responded with, hesitating to say anymore because Lance had stepped into view. He had scared Keith from speaking properly.

"Half English, and half whatever you were speaking?" Lance said.

"We're both fluent," Pidge said while Keith was stock still, face still in shock. Lance heard a thump under the table, and Keith's face twisted in pain. "I gotta go," they said as they checked the clock on their laptop. 

Keith's eyes flashed something Lance couldn't read before he said, "I have to go too, sorry." Lance was left behind with his notebooks left on the library table and a note from Keith that said, 

 

_You have really nice handwriting. Next meeting: tomorrow, same place, same time?_

 

Lance sighed. Ignoring this would be a lot harder than he initially hoped.

ㅇ

“Huuuunk!” Lance called, closing the door to his apartment and dropping his backpack to the side of him. “I need you, man!” He could hear shuffling on the other side of Hunk’s bedroom door, probably from Hunk himself. Lance was proven right when Hunk threw his door open, a worried expression on his face.

"Are you okay?" He asked, quickly making his way across the room, fists clenched in worry. Lance gave a half-assed smirk.

"If you call betraying my family okay, then, yeah, I'm okay," he said, flopping down on the couch, a sigh escaping his lips.

"What do you mean?"

"Keith." A sound of recognition left Hunk. Lance dropped his gaze to his feet.

"So..." Hunk began, the 'walking on eggshells' behavior uncommon on him, "You like him?" Lance nodded. "You're scared your family will ostracize you because you like Keith." Lance exhaled loudly.

"Hunk, buddy, you're always right. Painfully so," he said with a breath laugh. Hunk frowned.

"You know they won't do that, right? Your parents love you, and if your _abuela_ tries anything, your parents _will_ support you." Lance couldn't see past his aunt or the cousin's names said in hushed tones at family gatherings or the off-handed comments no one thinks twice about. He shook his head. Hunk sighed.

"I've known you and your family for nearly twenty years," Hunk said, sitting down next to his friend. "They wouldn't just drop you like they did before."

"You don't know that--"

"You don't know they'll hate you for something you can't control, Lance!" Lance turned his head away from Hunk. The words weren't _wrong_ , but Lance was hesitant to accept the idea.

He was ashamed and he couldn't admit it.

"I-I don't think I want to go out tonight," he said, tears staining the edges of his words, sniffles present. Hunk placed a comforting hand on his back, moving it in small circles.

"Come out for a little bit and if you can't handle it, we'll leave, okay?" Lance sighed.

"Fine..." Hunk rubbed again before removing his hand.

"I'll go make dinner while you get ready," he said, standing, "and don't forget, what you want matters, too, not just what you _think_ your family wants." Lance nodded, standing, too.

ㅇ

After an extremely relaxing (and somewhat challenging) yoga class, Lance was walking Allura out, complimenting her on her "fantastic" teaching.

"You know," Allura started as the moved from the juice bar, a smoothie for her and a simple green tea for Lance, "you should start dancing again. You were quite good the last time I saw you!" Lance flushed. He knew she was engaged, but he still had a small crush that wouldn't go away, so the small compliments that Allura gave him time to time still gave him butterflies.

"Thanks, but, uh, I gave it up a long time ago, I couldn't--"

"Shiro!" Allura called as they passed the self defense room. Allura bounded in there, almost jumping into her fiancé's arms (without spilling anything from her flimsy cup). Lance looked around the room as he stepped into the doorway half expecting to see a class, but, instead, his eyes fell on Keith, sweaty and breathing heavily, his hair in a small ponytail. He and Shiro were training.

He and Keith locked eyes for a moment before Allura tried to introduce him.

"Shiro, you remember Lance," she said, placing a hand on Lance's shoulder.

"Hard to forget someone who tried to flirt with my Allura," Shiro said, face lit up with a playful smile. Allura giggled at the memory, Lance flushed out of embarrassment. It was one thing he got rejected, but he had gotten _annihilated_ by Shiro swooping in at the last second, arms around Allura, calling her "princess". Lance didn't go for yoga for a week until Allura half dragged his ass back there.

"And the quiet boy is Keith," Allura said, pushing past Lance's mortified face. Keith ducked his head before extending his hand. Lance took it and the two shook for a second.

"We're actually partners for a project in our astrophysics class," Lance said, hand dropping to his side. Keith almost looked fearful for a moment, his eyes shooting over to Shiro, who, in turn, gave him a look that confused the hell of Lance.

"그 귀염둥이 야?" Shiro asked, his attention fully on Keith. Lance's eyes widened in further confusion. Keith's face turned red instantly (a look Lance found extremely cute, but he wouldn't admit it), and he looked ready to run crying or hit Shiro. Lance couldn't tell.

"야!" This time it was Keith speaking the language Lance couldn't put a name to. "형!" Shiro burst out in laughter, and Allura tried to stifle her giggles, too. Lance shifted his gaze between the three people, clearly having missed the "learn whatever Keith speaks" class.

"Keith, honey" Allura said through her laughter, "you're _fine_ , hmm?" Keith spared a glance at Lance, his face still a mix of confusion and something else Keith couldn't quite read. Keith nodded, his eyes cast down.

"I better get going," Lance spoke up," It was great seeing you again Shiro, Keith." Allura grabbed his upper arm before he could exit.

"Let me walk you out," She said with a grin.

ㅇ

Coming back to his dorm with Pidge in it wasn't uncommon for Keith. They usually spent more time in his room than in their own dorm hall. What was unnerving was how Pidge was nervously fidgeting on his cheap sofa. Keith dropped his gym duffel before rushing to their side.

"What happened?" Keith asked, sitting down next to the fidgety Pidge. They barely acknowledged his presence.

"Hunk-- he, uh, h-he invited me to this-this thing tonight," their voice was shaky as they tried to explain. Their throats was dry and Pidge felt as though their heart could stop from how fast it was beating.

"I'm guessing you said yes?" Pidge nodded. "Then I'm coming with you."

"Thank you," they whispered. Keith pulled them into his arms despite neither of the two being even remotely okay with physical affection.

"When and where?" Keith asked after a couple minutes of just holding the anxious teen, occasionally rubbing his thumb in circles.

"8, and at this club not that far from campus." Pidge's voice was less shaky, more tired than it had been. Keith was relieved they weren't panicking anymore.

"Nova?" Pidge nodded again. Keith glanced at his alarm clock, which read 7:29. "Hey, let's get ready. You can borrow any of shirts." A mischievous grin crawled its way onto Pidge's face.

 

Pidge took the "any shirt" comment for real. They were rummaging through Keith's closet for ten minutes before finding the holy grail of Keith's shirts. It was an old and worn Korn tee that Keith had shittily cut into a tank top with massive arm holes when he was a high schooler. Keith glanced over from his perch on his bed to what prize Pidge had pulled from the recesses of his closet. His eyes shot open when he recognized the faded white print and frayed edges.

"Pidge, thanks for reminding me I still need to burn that shirt _now_ ," Keith said, leaping from his bed to get the shirt.

"You said _any_ shirt," Pidge said, turning and hiding the shirt from its owner, "and I choose _this_!"

"I regret having bought that shirt." Pidge giggled as Keith removed himself, feeling much more relaxed than before. They wiggled into the shirt, over their sports bra, and tucked into their camo green shorts. The handful of random people's numbers that should've faded in the past five years were still as obvious as ever.

"Are the numbers still there?" Pidge asked, stepping in front of the full length mirror by Keith's closet. Keith sighed.

"It's like they were written on there yesterday," he sighed again, flopping back onto his bed. "How did I end up getting so many? I didn't speak a word to anyone while I was there."

"Lance is coming tonight, y’know."

"No, I _didn't_ ," Keith hissed. "Thanks for the information, Pidge." They just smirked. _There goes all hope of having a somewhat normal night..._

ㅇ

Hunk stepped out of his truck, slamming the door as he checked the message Pidge sent.

**Pidge 7:49pm**  
_i invited a friend  
hope thats ok_

**Hunk 7:58pm**  
_it's fine! the more the merrier amiright?_

**Pidge 7:59pm**  
_he's chill i promis  
e_

Hunk closed his phone, turning around the side of the bed to look at Lance. He was fiddling with his own phone, cursing in Spanish, something Hunk was used to after almost twenty years with him.

"Pidge invited a friend," he said, shoving his hands in his denim jacket , an attempt to brace against the nippy autumn weather.

“Who is it?” Lance asked, closing his own phone, putting into his back pocket. 

“They didn't say.” Lance let out a short laugh. Pidge, ever the cryptic. Someone was calling Hunk’s name near the entrance of the club. It was Pidge in a torn up Korn shirt and --Lance balked-- shorts with a dark haired boy trailing them.

Lance still hadn't gotten over their encounter at the gym barely a few hours ago, and now he was going to spend a night out with him. No matter what, this would end badly for Lance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations for the korean:
> 
> 나는 내가 엉망이 될까봐 두려워하는 것을 도울 수 없다! : i can't help that i'm scared to mess up!
> 
> 그 귀염둥이 야? : is that the cutie?
> 
> 야! 형!: hey! shiro!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UHH HI it's been about two n a half weeks but like. i've been crazy busy and also i start school tomorrow so there might be even more time between updates (sorry!!) but i'll try and get them out as often as i can.
> 
> but finALLY it's here! this one is unbeta'd lol and the rest will be the same from here on out (probably) so sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes

Once the four of them entered the club, Hunk sped away, announcing he was going to snag a table, and Keith made a beeline for the bar, muttering something about desperately needing a drink. Lance was left with Pidge to follow in Hunk’s wake, although he pretty much had vanished at that point.

“Nice shirt,” Lance remarked, “Didn't know you liked them.” Pidge glanced down at the shirt, almost to remind themselves what they were wearing. They smirked.

“Oh-- it's Keith’s,” the said. “ _He_ likes them-- or at least he used to in high school.”

“Why doesn't he anymore?” Lance asked, trying to learn more about the broody boy who _literally_ never spoke about himself.

“It _may_ have to do with this shirt,” Pidge snickered into their hand.

“What-” They had spun around, pulling off the shoulders of their flannel to reveal a handful of phone numbers written on the back.

“Keith claims he never spoke during the concert,” they explained, pulling their over shirt back on, “but he still had like thirty people give him their number.”

“So, he doesn't like Korn anymore ‘cause their fans are sex deprived?” he said as the two saw Hunk at a table. Hunk saw them, too, and waved the duo over.

“Did you know Keith was a player in high school?” Lance opened with as he sat down next to Hunk.

“He wasn’t a player!” Pidge remarked from the other side of Hunk, their face hidden. They were looking back toward the bar, hunting for Keith’s face. When they saw him, Pidge bounded to him, grabbing one of the two glasses he held. They didn't drink from it until the two were sat again, Keith between Pidge and Lance, just a seat separating the two.

“This is all I'm buying you, you heathen,” Keith said when Pidge took a swig of the liquid, a fiery red color.

“Aren't they, like, _really_ underage?” Hunk asked, worry etched into his features. Pidge shrugged, setting the glass down.

“If I'm going to be around this many people, I need something to ease my mind.” Hunk nodded, eyes drifting to the dancefloor. Keith followed as his sipped his own drink, a fruity concoction the bartender recommended. _He wants to…?_

“So, you wanna dance?” Lance jumped up, grabbing his friend's wrist and pulling him away.

Once they were far enough away, Keith said, “He hates me.” Pidge snorted, disbelief on their face.

“Trust me,” they said, “That boy does not hate you.” Keith raised an eyebrow toward them, eyes still following Lance, who was smiling _beautifully_ in Keith’s opinion, the faint dips of his dimples visible.

“Why does it feel like he avoids me every chance he gets?” Pidge rolled their eyes, still sipping their bartender recommended drink.

“Don't let anyone see you drinking that,” Keith said, voice dropped low, eyes cautious. Pidge stared back as they set the drink down.

“I promise not to get caught again, Keith” they replied. Keith, satisfied with their promise, let his gaze wander back to the other two of their group, the lankier one dancing his heart out. He watched as Lance danced; he watched as he gave a couple flirty smiles to the girls around him; he even watched as a pretty blonde girl handed him a glass half filled with amber liquid and Lance graciously accepted. A small pang hit his heart causing him to down the rest of his fruity mixer and get up to hunt the bar down once more. Despite the dozen times he’d been there with his brother, Keith continually got turned around with the masses of people. Especially now that he was buzzed and emotionally compromised. The bar seemed much farther than when he was in control of his thoughts, but what felt like an hour was barely a couple of minutes for Keith to reach the friendly guy taking his order for a couple vodka shots and the same fruity whatever he got before. 

One smile that edged on the flirty side from the guy hooking him up with alcohol and two vodka shots later, Keith was halfway stumbling back to Pidge, the drink Keith vaguely remembers cute bar guy calling an _electric blue_ in his hand. The table, however, had three more seats taken up. Hunk and Lance had come back from the dance floor and dragged the girl who offered underage Lance a drink back with them as well. Keith cautiously took the remaining seat between Pidge and Hunk, sipping at his overpriced mixer. As much as he tried, Keith couldn't stop looking at Lance, who was so engrossed in whatever the blonde girl was saying, it was almost pathetic how desperate he looked. She had been introduced to him as Nyma when he sat down (he had thought it was an odd name, but his closest friend _did_ go by Pidge so, no, it wasn't so odd) and while, yes, she was pretty by society's standards, Keith couldn't help himself to try and find faults in her.

It was hard.

Very hard. 

Keith came to the conclusion, his drink just a sip left, that maybe Lance would be better off with her rather than an angsty 21 year-old who's still finds trouble making friends. And that realization hurt more than Lance _actually_ flirting with her. The last of the blue liquid was drank and Keith moved to stand up, but stopped at the feeling of a small hand on his own. Keith turned his gaze to his hand resting on the (probably) dirty table, taking a few seconds to recognize Pidge's hand on his, slightly shaking. His languid gaze moved from their hands to his friend’s eyes that were begging him not to go and drink himself into a coma. Keith relaxed back into his chair and Pidge removed their hand.

A buzz vibrated the table, causing almost all of the five to glance at their phones. It was Nyma’s --a text that caused her to sheepishly smile at Lance, apologizing for having to run. She didn't leave anything behind. 

Keith barely noticed and intense stare between Hunk on his right and Pidge on his left but he noticed it nonetheless. Suspicions rose in his throat, but before he could speak them, Hunk all but jumped out of his chair.

“I'm gonna try and get some fresh air,” he said. “Pidge, come with?” Pidge hastily nodded, shooting out of their chair in a similar manner to Hunk seconds before. They ran out of the club, leaving Keith to face the boy who refused to meet his drunken gaze.

“Why?” It caught Lance off guard. The slow word even surprised Keith at its fierceness. Lance raised an eyebrow.

“Why... what?”

“Why...have you...been ignoring me...all night?” Keith paused to gather his thoughts, to lower the chance of his words melding into one mega-word.

“I haven’t been!” Defensive Lance was something Keith saw often, but it was rarely directed at him. In the past week and a half Keith had been around him, Lance’s vibrant expressions just...did something to him, this defensive one included.

“Then why is this is the first time you spoke to me all night?!” Keith gave no mind to _not_ slurring his words, so they ended up sounding a bit mega-wordy, but Lance somehow understood his awful speech.

“I don’t know,” he said, his expression faltering for half a second before resuming its defense. “Why are _you_ so drunk, huh?” Keith flinched back, not realizing how far he was leaning over the table. His eyes dropped from Lance’s face.

“I’m trying to forget someone,” he said quietly, just audible over the loud music. Keith kept his gaze on his empty glass in front of him.

He especially kept his focus when Lance asked, “Who?” _You_. He didn’t respond, didn’t move until he caught sight of Pidge and Hunk slowly making their way back to the boys. 

Keith stood quickly, grabbing onto Lance’s wrist and pulling him into the direction of the dance floor. If Lance could flirt with people down there, dammit Keith could, too.

 

Before he could really grasp what was happening, Lance was being dragged to the dance floor, his wrist being crushed by Keith’s hand. Once they hit the floor, Keith turned on him, dancing as if there wasn't space beyond Lance's personal bubble (there really wasn't- the place was packed, but Lance figured there could have been a few more inches of space between him and Keith). Lance was suddenly extremely hot; he figured it was from the humidity of all the sweaty bodies crowding him but it also could have been from the blush creeping up his neck at Keith's drunken self essentially _draped_ on Lance, dancing and grinning like this was the best thing to ever happen to him.

Lance couldn't lie, even in his state, he was _gorgeous_. And his family would definitely kill him for this.

As the thought crept into his mind, Keith’s heavy breathing on Lance's neck-- _when did he move closer?!_ \-- distracted him. He was so close and Lance was having a hard time from remembering _why_ Keith was like this (one too many shots, maybe? Did he cling on to the nearest person he knew when he was too drunk to properly think?)

This boy wasn't hiding whatever he felt for Lance, and he was millimeters away from _pressing his lips to Lance's skin_ \-- Keith mentally shook himself as best as he could from his drunken thoughts, pulling away from the others neck and instead watching his lips. He whispered something too quiet for Lance to hear.

“너되게 예쁘다...” Keith whispered slurring his words, a hand sliding around Lance's hips. Lance looked down at the comment.

“What does that mean?” he asked genuinely intrigued by Keith’s apparently secret language.

“It means…” Keith stared more intently at Lance's lips as he stop dancing, leaning completely on Lance for support, “... you’re...very pretty.” He closed in, eyes flickering to meet Lance's gaze, his mouth hovering above the other’s (he couldn't believe he was doing this _drunk_ and most likely wouldn't remember it in the morning). Keith was staring into Lance’s eyes, not thinking about what he was doing before his gaze dropped to his lips again, and then they were pressed against something soft, something that tasted like top tier whiskey-the drink Keith was sure Nyma gave Lance--

_He was kissing Lance. Lance wasn't kissing back._

Keith pulled away, the realization of what was happening started to sober him up a little. A mixture of shock and fear flooded his face before he untangled himself from the other boy, hurrying away as fast as he could in his drunken state, swaying and stumbling up the steps. He found Pidge and pulled them far far _far_ away from the table and to the nearest bathroom. (Lance was watching the whole time. He still felt the ghost of Keith's mouth against his.)

“What the _fuck_ , Keith?” Pidge hissed when the door was closed. They had given up on watching the two boys on the dance floor just seconds before they kissed. Keith was (horribly) pacing around the small bathroom.

“내가 무슨 일이 있었는지 망했어,” he said, his words still strung together. Pidge raised an eyebrow, not getting the message. Keith stopped pacing, his gaze boring a hole into Pidge’s mind. “내가 키스 했어!” Pidge’s eyes widened.

“You _what_?”

ㅇ

Lance was stunned. The kiss, even if it was barely a second long, was just about everything he hoped it would be (though he _did_ wish it was longer). So there Lance stood, stockstill, post tiny- ass peck that felt bigger than it was, with dozens of bodies oblivious to him and his personal crisis.

Then, he was off-balance, his foot catching him as he fell. Lance was pushed- _accidentally_ , the skinny guy threw him a short “sorry!” in his direction. The little shove pulled him out of his daze, though, and it finally hit him.

_Keith_ kissed _him_.

The boy Lance had been avoiding all night so he wouldn't have to deal with that pretty face. The boy Lance had been shit terrified to see every time they met up for the past week and a half. The boy Lance had been all but obsessed with for the past two years beyond Keith being just another pretty face for Lance to gawk at.

The boy Lance was head over heels for.

He took a subconscious step toward the exit of the floor, his mind now solely occupied by thoughts of Keith and getting to Hunk to talk about Keith. For someone so vehemently against his attraction to guys, Lance _really_ liked to talk about them. And sadly, this guy hadn't left Lance's mind since he was blown off by a lack of acknowledgement from the other party.

 

When Lance somehow finally made his way back to the table, Pidge was nowhere to be found and Hunk was fidgeting in his chair. He glanced up as Lance stepped near the table, his eyes full of worry and confusion (something Lance _really_ hated to see cross best friend’s face).

“Why did Keith grab Pidge and run away?” Hunk questioned, continuing to wring his hands. Lance wanted to grab and hold on to them, to still them. “Why did he run away from you?”

“Do you know where he went?”

“No, and don't change the subject, Lance! What did you do to him?” Lance scoffed.

“What did _I_ do?” The glass Nyma had given him was the only reason Lance was even going to talk about it with Hunk. Without it, he would have just shrugged and called him weird so he wouldn't have to face the fact that they actually kissed. “You should be asking what did _Keith_ do!”

“Well, what _did_ Keith do?” Lance drop down into a chair across from Hunk.

“He- he kissed me, Hunk!” His eyes widened in surprise; though, only for a second before narrowing back. A couple emotions flickered across his friend’s face, but Lance was too deep in his own emotional rollercoaster to catch them.

“So, what did you do then?” The words broke Lance out of his probably third self-inflicted trance of the night.

“I don't know,” he said, voice low, “He kind of just... ran away.” Hunk made a noise, a small acknowledgement to Lance's distressed. Lance tore his eyes from the table to look at Hunk. He was looking at Lance, eyes still full of concern. 

“He's probably really drunk, right?” Hunk asked, something else crossing his face. “Pidge told me he had a lot to drink before he took you away.”

“Perks of being twenty-one,” Lance said, dropping his head onto one of his hands. “So what?”

“So... he can't take Pidge home,” Hunk said, now smiling. “Why don't you take him?”

“No!” Lance said, hand dropping immediately as he straightened up in his chair.. “That is crazy, and you know it Hunk”

“Think about it! You can get to know _whyyyy_ he did that, and see morning Keith, who--according to Pidge--is a much better Keith,” Hunk couldn’t hold back his giggles at his plan. Lance firmly shook his head.

“No way. No amount of ‘morning Keith’”--he added dramatic air quotes to emphasize his point--“ is going to make me do that. Plus, I have, like, three dollars with me.” Hunk held out a twenty. Of course he had money. He nudged it toward Lance telling him to take it, which Lance did, but not without a dramatic eye roll that made Hunk chuckle.

“Go find him,” the boy said. “I'm pretty sure he pulled Pidge that way.” Hunk pointed behind him carelessly, a knowing grin starting to pull at his lips.

“ _Gracias, amor_ ,” Lance drawled, standing up and starting in the general direction Hunk pointed to.

 

It didn't take long to find Keith and Pidge. They were huddled together coming out of a bathroom, Pidge talking animatedly in what Lance assumed was Keith’s native language. He barely caught the tail end of what they were saying. 

“--갈거야.” Pidge muttered, grabbing at Keith's hand. Lance figured it was the perfect time to interject, otherwise he may not get another chance. Pigde looked ready to leave at that very second, Keith's expression not far off from theirs.

“Hey,” Lance said, stepping closer to the two. Pidge whipped their head toward him, face scrunched up in confusion.

“Tell Hunk we're leaving--”

“I was thinking I should take him home,” Lance interrupted. Pidge stopped walking, dropping their hand from Keith’s, who also held a confused expression on his face.

“Pidge can just call a cab,” Keith started, words still flowing as one. “It's fine…” 

“I’ve got cash and the best hangover cure,” Lance said, stepping toward Keith, hand outstretched. “You’re comin’ with me, Mullet head.” Keith didn't move for his hand, but he did glance down at it. Lance let out a frustrated sigh, grabbing for Keith’s hand. He didn't back away or fight Lance’s grasp, so Lance tugged him to the exit, slowly intertwining their fingers. Once they were out and away from the doors, Lance pulled his-- _almost dead_ \-- phone out and called a cab.

 

 

Lance decided drunk Keith was the _worst person_ to have a cab ride with. Or, at least, he would've been had Lance not found almost every little thing he did to be down right adorable. Keith was holding onto Lance’s arm, his face buried in the crook of his neck. Keith was straight up _cuddling_ him, and Lance let it happen, a rebellious act against the tiny little voice in the back of his head yelling at him that _this was the worst idea he's ever gone through with._

And yet there he still sat, arm taken up by a belligerent mullet-headed boy.

Another embarrassed thought bubbled up in his mind as he caught the eye of the driver. He didn't _seem_ dangerous but Lance was still cautious. Though, all of his fear was squashed as Keith mumbled something into his neck.

“What was that,” Lance said, glancing down. Keith turned his head so his mouth was finally was from Lance’s skin.

“좋아해,” he whispered. It was so soft, Lance barely caught it, but he still heard _whatever_ Keith said.

“And that means…?” Keith just nuzzled in further.

“정말 좋아해,” was his response. Lance internalized his amusement as his friend-- _can I call him that? We've barely talked to each other outside the stupid project…_

Keith had mumbled a couple more things Lance didn't catch before the cab came to a stop by his apartment block. Lance handed him the twenty Hunk essentially bribed him with and got out, dragging a half conscious Keith with him.

 

 

It was a pain for Lance to even just get him in the building, but taking him up the stairs was a whole other story. He was half tempted to say “fuck it”, drop Keith where he was swaying on the stairs, and go the hell to sleep, but if Hunk came by and saw Keith, Lance’s ass would be skinned so fast, he would still be asleep by the time his skin was tanned and ready to be sold as a nice rug. So, because of his possible skinning, Lance half-guided, half-dragged Keith up the four flights of stairs up to his apartment. When he got to his door, after what felt like an hour, Lance dug his key out of his pocket shoved it in the lock and opened his door.

Keith fell through the doorway. Lance groaned.

“Why,” he said, bending down to drag his drunk friend all the way into his living room, “are you... like this?” Keith mumbled something he couldn't hear, but was probably something Lance couldn't understand anyways. He finally pulled the older of the two inside and he slammed his door shut, not caring about his neighbors at that point. He was frustrated and tired and he still had to make sure Keith didn't die during the night.

Which led Lance to thought of where he would sleep. Hunk’s room was _obviously_ off limits, and his own bed could only fit one person (and Lance was not about to sleep on the floor that night for someone who could barely stand). The only place left was the plush couch he and Hunk had bought together as their first piece of furniture in the apartment. They had splurged on it, and it was the only thing was actually nice besides the TV Lance’s parents got him as a graduation present. The couch he now had to figure out some way to get Keith on without hurting him. Though, Lance was willing to do anything to get Keith out of his hair so he could just _go the hell to sleep._

Lance dragged Keith to the couch with minimal protests from the other party, tucked his arms under Keith’s armpits and, with all the strength he could muster, pulled him up onto the couch. Keith groaned as Lance pulled his legs up as well, and Lance let out a frustrated sigh. The hard part was _finally over_ and now, maybe, he could go get some sleep Lance could tell his body needed. Though, not before finding the surprisingly empty trash can in the kitchen and dropping next to Keith, who looked at it as if it were a completely foreign object to him. Lance turned away from him.

“I'm going to bed, use that to puke,” he said, starting to walk away, his body _begging_ for sleep. Keith mumbled something that kind of sound like “wait”, so Lance stopped and turned back to him. He looked wrecked.

“C’mere,” he whispered, swatting his hands in a _come here_ fashion. Lance followed his drunken order. Maybe he needed water or a blanket. Lance wasn't about to deny him something important, but his already low patience was dropping as his exhaustion rose.

“What do you want, Keith,” his voice was strained and tired. Keith did his swatting motion again, and Lance dropped his head closer to the other. He almost regretted it as sound as he did because Keith launched himself at Lance, smashing their lips together. Lance tried to pull away, but Keith had wrapped his hands around his neck and had a shockingly strong grip for someone as drunk as he was. Lance stilled as Keith didn't let go. He didn't want to let go either, so Lance just... _let it happen_. He relaxed into keith, and even started moving his own lips (the little voice in his head was screaming at him again, though it was much easier to ignore this time).

Keith drop a hand, letting it roam Lance’s chest. Lance barely took a noticed, he was so enthralled and that he was properly kissing the guy he had a borderline obsessive crush on (one that he was committed to denying, not that it mattered). He couldn't help but notice how nicely their lips fit together, how well they moved together almost as if they could tell what the other was going to do. Keith had jutted his bottom lip just before Lance nipped at it; Lance had pulled back for air as Keith ran a hand through his short hair.

Although, Keith looked off to Lance, a little pale. _Like he was about to--_

Keith’s eyes widened as he tossed his head to his right as he threw up into the conveniently placed trash can (Lance silently thanked himself).

“I'm gonna get you some water,” Lance said, getting off the couch. The mood was officially ruined. “And then you, sir, should go to sleep.”

When Lance came back with a glass of tap water, Keith was already out. Lance spared himself a small chuckle, and dragged himself to his room, falling asleep in his clothes. 

 

When Keith finally opened his eyes, despite every cell in his body telling him to go the fuck back to sleep, he almost screamed at the brightness of whatever foreign place he was currently in. He immediately squeezed his eyes shut, letting a groan escape his lips at the feeling of his retinas burning. And then came the splitting headache and the full body soreness. Keith was having his worst hangover to date, and all on the couch of some probable stranger.

"Good morning, mullet," a voice called from somewhere not so far away, sending a shooting pain through his head. Keith groaned again, refusing to open his eyes. "Hangover that bad?" This time, it was closer. The voice was familiar, but familiar how? Keith dared to crack open a eye, just barely, to see who was talking to him. Tan skin and dark blue hoodie filled his sight, and when he opened his other eye, too, he saw a bright-eyed Lance, who seemed to be way too chipper for Keith's current mood. One thing hit him: Lance was close. Like extremely close. Closer than they usually were whenever they were sitting next to each other in library working on that stupid project. Keith pushed his head further into the cushion, trying to widened the space between them before something happened. Lance either seemed to take Keith’s boundary hint or he saw how close they were and didn’t like it. Either way, Lance straightened up, turning toward what Keith assumed was the kitchen.

“I made some _papas rellenas_ ,” he said, starting to move toward the other side of the room. “It’s nothing like what my mom makes for us, but it worked for Hunk, so I hope it’ll work for you, too.” He had already returned with a plate that hosted three dough balls, or what Keith _thought_ were dough balls, a mug full of what Keith hoped was the strongest coffee possible. Lance set set the plate in front of Keith and he looked at it like it could be the best thing he'd ever eat or possibly the worst. A childhood of homemade Korean dishes and, later, cheap frozen meals stunted Keith’s perception of food outside of rice and reheated chicken. He caught Lance motioning to it, as if to say _go on_. So, he does. He picks up one of the dough balls and bites into it and, probably due to the headache currently beating his brain up, it's suddenly the best things he's ever had. It's so good that he lets a happy moan escape his mouth.

“That good, huh?” Keith only nodded, taking another bite. He turned to the window out of better judgement and almost screamed at the light pouring through. A thought hit him: _what time is it?_ Keith dug through his pockets, hunting down his phone, which displayed a brilliant white 10:17 at him. Another groan left him, which now seemed to be the only way he could communicate. Lance raised an eyebrow at him.

“I have a class that starts in like an hour,” he explained, leaning back against the couch, dough balls be damned. “I gotta go, I can’t miss it anymore.” Keith stood up, almost immediately regretting doing so. He took a second to regain his composure and moved for the door.

“Hey--” Lance stopped him. “There’s, like, a good ninety percent chance you smell like booze right now, and you can barely walk if you haven’t noticed.” Keith stared at him.

“And?”

“And, I’ll take you,” he said, crossing his arms. “You can use the shower and eat the rest of my amazing homemade breakfast, and I’ll drive you.”

“You drive?” Now it was Keith’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Lance shot him a quick “yup” before pushing Keith toward the bathroom. It was a nice sized bathroom for an apartment. Keith looked at himself in the mirror, saw how horrendous his hair looked (was it even possible for it to look worse than what it usually was?), saw the deep set bags under his eyes. He caught a whiff of something and _definitely, oh yeah_ , he smelled like alcohol.

 

 

One pretty nice shower later, Keith having used what he assumed were Lance’s body wash and shampoo (and conditioner--he had two separate products), he stood in front of the mirror again having put his underwear and pants on. He couldn't find his shirt. He looked just about everywhere, but it wasn't in the room.

“Lance, my shirt is gone,” Keith said, walking out of the bathroom. He almost ran into Lance, who was standing barely a foot away from the doorway, a blue t-shirt in his hands. “M-My shirt is…”

“In the washer, yeah,” Lance pushed the blue shirt toward him. “You can borrow this. Your shirt was the worst smelling of all your clothes, I hope it's that's okay.” Keith slowly nodded, gaze dropping to the shirt.

Lance was just…. _letting_ him use his clothes, no implications beyond “i'm a friend who has clothes and you're a friend who needs them”. But that didn't stop Keith’s heart from quickening its pace. His little crush had to have been so obvious at this point (Keith even vaguely remembered calling him pretty in Korean the night before). He's surprised Lance hasn't banished him from his life.

Keith took the shirt, slowly pulling it on. It was a little big on him, the sleeves hit his elbow when they were probably supposed to land mid-upper arm, and the shirt dangled around his mid thigh.

“Eh, it's a little big,” Lance stated, “but that just means it's comfy.” Keith shrugged as the other boy moved away from him. He could feel the warmth spreading up the back of his neck and on the tips of his ears.

The fact that Lance was in the bathroom when he showering didn't even cross his mind.

 

 

Keith couldn't pay attention to his professor's rambling, his mind still scrambled from his hangover. The bright lights in the classroom weren't helping him either, and he was pretty sure his professor had them all the way up just to spite Keith (the room was dim until he stumbled in, sunglasses perched on his face and hair... probably still a mess). He couldn't focus, so he just let his minds wander, first visiting the thought of regret of drinking so much the night before. He knew he was a lightweight, but seeing Lance flirting with that girl and his thinking already compromised didn't go well for him. All he could do now was say it happened and move on, he was dealing with the consequences already.

Lance.

He was wearing his shirt, had eaten his cooking, and he drove him to class. Keith wasn't expecting any of it, least of all Lance dropping him off. The conversation they had before Keith went to class was stuck in his mind.

 

_"I didn't do anything weird, right?" Keith asked, hands balled in his lap. Lance giggled--straight up_ giggled _\--at Keith._

_"Unless you call making out with me and then puking weird," Lance said. Keith's heart dropped, stomach filled with dread. He couldn't face him again. Never. He was fucked for that project all because he couldn't keep it in his pants (or... basically failed trying to take it out). "But I wouldn't. You get clingy when drunk, did you know that?"_

_"Not until now," Keith muttered, moving to exit the old truck._

_"You're a really good kisser, y'know." Keith froze, mind racing. Instead of responding, he ripped open the door and slammed it, running away from the pickup._

 

Fuck.

Keith decided he was never drinking again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance's truck is a 1994 Ford F-150 cause they're nice and it's my dream car and Lance strikes me as a truck guy (of the less douchey variety).
> 
> anw! translations:
> 
>  너되게 예쁘다- you're very pretty  
> 내가 무슨 일이 있었는지 망했어- i fucked up is what happened  
> 내가 키스 했어- i kissed him  
> 갈거야- i'm going (pidge said: i'm going to take you home now)
> 
>  
> 
> also i have a [tumblr](http://pvrkjeup.tumblr.com) come yell at me cause my writing is bad ahaha


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy it’s been a good ol while! sorry for basically abandoning the fic, i got really busy and too stressed to write anything, but i worked on it for a few months n here you go!!
> 
> unbeta’d so typos/grammar mistakes are bound to have happened (just lmk!)
> 
> it’s also a bit longer than the other two, and (hopefully!) chapter four will be coming in july haha!
> 
> also there’s korean in this chapter (quite a bit at the end), all the translations are in the end notes
> 
> enjoy <3

After a couple weeks of endless teasing about Keith’s inability to hold his liquor, everything pretty much mellowed out and went back to normal. Lance hadn’t really brought up what happened in his apartment—even when Hunk asked and especially not when he and Keith were alone. The two had an unspoken agreement to never speak of it again, which Keith was grateful for. He didn’t have to think about it and didn’t have to deal with it.

At least not until he went to Shiro’s apartment and got borderline interrogated about the night. At least his brother gave him two weeks to accept the shit that happened, but he was ruthless with his questions—even calling him out when he tried to wiggle out of explaining what went down after Lance drove him home (Keith tried to say nothing, but Shiro stared him down for a good six seconds before he spilled). Even Allura knew at that point—Keith assumed Shiro told her everything, but when she walked in on the middle of his interrogation, she laughed and said Lance explained everything to her already. Just another hit to Keith’s already damaged ego.

Two Fridays after the Biggest Mistake of Keith’s LifeTM, Shiro stopped him from leaving the gym after their workout, saying that their parents wanted to invite Allura to dinner.

“I don’t see why I need to be apart of this,” Keith said, stomping back through the interior doors. “It’s not like the gym is that big—you can look on your own.”

“Sure, but I also don’t want to be here for longer than half an hour,” was Shiro’s response. “I have classes.”

“Do you know where she was last?” Shiro shook his head. Keith hadn’t seen her in the couple hours since he first walked in, but that didn’t mean she hasn’t here. No, in fact, like Shiro, Allura spent most of her free time at the campus gym. She did have her yoga classes.

“Take the upper level, I’ll stay down here.” is all Keith got before his brother was shooting down the opposite side of the building from the stairs up. Typical.

Keith took his sweet ass time climbing the stairs. He was forced into this and he didn’t have to do it within any specific amount of time (even if his brother wanted to get home soon), so he found no reason to race up the stairs like he tended to do.

Allura probably wasn’t even upstairs—her classroom was on the first level and she rarely came up, only really if Shiro happened to be running on the track. Shiro probably sent him up there so he could have some alone time with his fiancé before going home.

As Keith reached the top of the stairs, he did a sweep of the room with his eyes, glazing over the bright red track that housed a couple of joggers and the compact benches lining the walls. Everything was as he expected, but he didn’t expect to see a shock of white hair sticking out around the corner to the restrooms. Keith narrowed his eyes and began his trek to who he really hoped was Allura. When he was a couple feet away from the hallway, Keith heard her talking to someone.

"They'll kick me out, Allura,” said the mysterious other person, their voice coated in fear.

“No they won't, your grandmother doesn't rule your family. You'll be fine when you tell them,” was her response. Keith was just about upon the two.

“Tell them?! I'm terrified just thinking about being around him, I can't tell them anything—!” Keith’s steps faltered when the voice clicked in his mind. 

Lance.

He quickly resumed his pace, appearing from behind Allura, causing Lance to let out a surprised squeak upon seeing Keith. Keith was too involved in his own thoughts to really enjoy the cute little sound. He turned to Allura, ignoring the way Lance tried to compose himself.

“Ah—mom and dad wanted to invite you to dinner tonight,” he said, still perfectly ignoring the other person to his left, “if you don’t already have plans.”

“And does Shiro know about this?”

“He’s downstairs looking for you right now.” Allura chuckled.

“Well, I suppose we ought to go get him now.” She turned to Lance. “Are you leaving, too, or did you want to stay a bit longer?”

“I’ll stay for a bit.” His tone was unsure, reflecting the dip of his eyebrows and the turn of the corner of his lips. Not that Keith noticed any of those things. 

He didn’t.

“Well then, shall we?” Allura turned back to Keith, an arm out for him to hook in to. He took Allura’s arm, barely taking a second to glance at Lance’s downturned face. He felt a pang in his heart.

They released each other when they hit the stairs—Keith always liked to stay a step behind Allura. Shiro was waiting at the bottom of the steps. He caught Allura when she flung herself off the bottom few steps, kissing her cheek as a form of greeting.

“What’s got you so excited?” he said, setting his fiancé down. She just grinned at him as she pushed him towards the front entrance. 

Keith took his time following them. He didn’t need to be so close to their sappiness, reminding him of what he didn’t have. Everyone few seconds Shiro would look behind him and make sure Keith was still there, though. His big brother protectiveness never quite dissipated from when Keith was in high school. He found it oddly calming when Shiro gave him that look of almost...paternal care. It helped that Shiro was always there for Keith was he was an anxiety filled mess in high school. Guess he got so used to taking care of Keith it became second nature.

A hand slapping down on his shoulder jolted Keith out of his thoughts. He turned his head to his right to see who his assailant was—Lance. It’s always Lance.

“So....” he said, blue eyes diverted towards the concrete flooring of the gym. “How much of that did you actually hear?” Lance flicked his eyes up and then up once more to actually look into Keith’s own.

“What are you terrified to tell your family?” The hand that was on his shoulder dropped almost immediately. Lance redirected his gaze away from Keith.

“Nothing really...” his voice trailed off. “J-just my grades. They’re, uh slipping, yeah...” Keith raised an eyebrow at him even if he wouldn’t have seen it. He had been around Lance enough to know when he was lying and now... it was bad, like really bad.

“Then who’s the guy?” He tried to sound aloof and keep his voice steady, but the slight tremor in the middle of the sentence almost gave his rapid pulse and quick beating heart away. Keith didn’t need more people knowing just how intense his anxiety could get—and this was nothing.

“What guy?” The words were breathless, like Lance was fighting his own heart and pulse.

“The one you and Allura we’re talking about—you can’t seriously think I believe it was about grades.” Keith stopped, turned toward Lance. It only took him a second to realize Keith had planted himself to the ground.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Keith.” His face contorted with practiced confusion and a defensive hardness Keith hadn’t witnessed before.

“Why are you lying about this, Lance? What good can possibly come of it?” Lance’s eyes darkened and narrowed. 

He took a deep breath before saying, “Why the fuck do you even care?” and high-tailing it out of the gym.

A small fire was burning inside Keith. Fuck the nervousness he felt before, no—he was pissed. He was at least trying to care about him, right? Was that not enough? Apparently not, seeing as Lance was long gone, Keith having pissed him off somehow.

When Keith was able to pull himself back together after whatever the hell that conversation was, he went outside only to find that both Shiro and Allura had left. His watch read 3:22 when he looked at it. Shiro had class in less than ten minutes and Allura had no reason to stay. It was fine.

Keith hopped up on the back of his motorbike, popping his helmet on before revving the engine once and driving away.

-

That night, Keith drove home for the first time since classes started. He talked to his parents (they called a couple times a week), but unlike Shiro, he hadn’t made his way to their house. Whenever they asked, he always claimed he was “busy”. Keith, admittedly, felt some guilt for lying to them, but he was in need of a break from his parents (even if the break was just over a month long—he didn’t want to have his parent’s worried gaze on him constantly).

When he pulled up to drive way of the two-story home, he saw Shiro's car in the driveway behind both of parents’. Keith parked in the grass next to his dad’s sedan to allow Allura a spot to park that wasn’t the street. He made his way to door, key in hand, crossing the driveway.

Keith was met with the bright entryway lights on and the smell of his dad’s cooking, the faint sound of his mom laughing barely audible over the quiet television.

He missed this.

Keith dropped his helmet next to the umbrella basket and shrugged off the leather jacket he wore when he rode. He hung it on the coat rack.He pulled off his boots, slipped his feet in his house slippers, and went to find his family.

“Keith!” his mom said when he entered the living room. She hurried over to him, a glass of white wine in her hand, and hugged him tight. Her head sat just under his chin, so he rested his head lightly on her’s as he hugged her back. “So you’re too busy to visit on the weekends, but you’ll come over for free food? Don’t you care how your parents are doing?” she chided, a smile playing on her small lips, as she pulled away.

Keith gave her a sheepish smile, scratching at the back of his head as he whispered a quiet “미안”.

He looked to kitchen where his dad was engrossed in some kind of stir-fry dish, his glasses pushed up onto his head. Shiro was on one of the bar stools, a glass of water to his right. He was busy with texting (probably Allura). Keith’s mom pulled him to the nearest couch and forced him to sit.

“How’s college been?” she asked. “I know we call a lot, but there’s only so much you can share on the phone.” She took a sip of wine.

“Are you gonna tell her about your drunk adventures?” Keith jumped at the voice behind him. He whipped his head around to come face-to-face with Pidge, a shit-eating grin splitting their face apart.

“ _Drunk adventures?_ ” his mom echoed.

“When’d you get here?” Keith asked, his heart still racing from the fear. Pidge’s grin didn’t falter as they sat down on the couch adjacent to the one Keith was on.

“About twenty minutes ago,” they said. “I’ve been looking at old photos of us.”

“Keith, what does Pidge mean by _‘drunk adventures’_?Are you being safe?” she asked, that worry Keith tried to avoid dripping in excess from her voice.

“ _Pidge_ invited me to go clubbing recently and I had a little too much to drink,” he said, eyeing Pidge, who was still smiling as if they hadn’t done anything. “That’s _it_.”

“What about L—” His dad chose that second to exclaim in happiness, cutting Pidge off with ease.

“What is it, sweetie?” his mom called into the kitchen. His dad spun around, pride noticeable on all his features. He dropped his glasses back onto his nose.

“It’s done!” Keith’s mom let out a small ‘whoo!’ next to him.

“’Lura’s not—wait, never mind. She just pulled in,” Shiro said, pushing himself off the stool and disappearing through the hallway. Keith caught his mom giving him a look: _go set the table._

Luckily for Keith, the plates and such were already out, so he picked them up and put them around the dining table. Pidge smirked at him as they sat down in one of the chairs. Shiro walked back in with Allura, chatting about some adult things Keith couldn’t bother to pay attention to.

His dad started to put out the whatever-stir-fry on all the plates as the rest of them sat down, Keith next to Pidge and across from Shiro and Allura, his mom at one end.

“This looks amazing Mr. Rios,” Allura said, her pearly whites shining brilliantly.

“Thank you, Allura,” his father said. “Let’s eat.”

-

After they ate and Keith and Shiro washed the dishes, Keith made his way upstairs to his room where Pidge was hiding. They were sitting in his bed, the photo album they found earlier spread out in front of them.

“Find anything interesting?” Keith asked as he close the door. Pidge barely glanced up to acknowledge him.

“Not really…” they said. “Just a lot of nostalgia.” Keith dropped himself next to Pidge, eyes focused on the pictures in from of him. It was of him and Pidge at graduation. Pidge was on his shoulders with the most genuine smile Keith ever saw on them (the announcer chose to call out Pidge instead of their birth name, the first time anyone outside of friends and family to do so). Keith was smiling, too, but he looked more relieved than anything. Pidge flipped the page over.

That one was a candid shot of Keith, Shiro, Pidge, and Pidge’s brother Matt and the beach when they (and Allura) went on vacation during the spring break of Keith’s senior year. The ocean was a brilliant, shining blue and the sun caused a golden lens flare in the top left corner. The four were in a shitty rendition of chicken with Pidge on Matt’s shoulder and Keith on Shiro’s. Well, he _was_ perched on Shiro before the picture. Allura snapped it when Keith was mid fall after Pidge gave him a particularly hard shove. Keith felt his lips tug up at that one.

Pidge flipped through a couple more pages before yawning and claiming they were tired. They had reached around Keith’s bed to grab a bag Keith hadn’t seen when he came in, and pulled out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. As Pidge changed, Keith found some old sweat pants, peeled off his hoodie and changed as well. Pidge flopped onto the bed as Keith padded over to the light and turned it off.

-

Keith woke up to a foot in his face.

It took his sluggish brain a good minute before remembering he was at his parent’s house and Pidge stayed the night and slept in his bed.

He slipped out from under Pidge’s stray leg as carefully as he could so as not to disturb them. Pidge rarely got any sleep those days, they could use all they could get. Keith made it out without jostling Pidge too much—they shifted a bit but ultimately stayed asleep—and made his way downstairs.

He wasn’t expecting anyone to be in the kitchen when entered, but Allura was sitting at the island, sipping from a mug. She looked up from her phone when he walked in.

“Sleep well?” she asked She set her phone down and room another sip.

“I woke up with a foot in my face,” Keith said as he pulled a couple of waffles from the freezer, “so I’d say not that bad.” Allura chuckled. Keith pulled out the toaster from one of the cabinets, plugged it in, and popped his waffles in. “How about you?”

“Pretty well, I suppose,” she said as she set her mug down. Keith stared at the toaster as he built up the courage to ask her about Lance. Even if Lance had completely dodged his questions didn’t mean he was fine—actually the exact opposite. They were kinda friends right? As good as friends as they could’ve been considering Keith’s inability to control himself.

The waffles popping up shook Keith out of his thoughts, making him jump a bit.

“Keith?” Allura asked. He made a noise to acknowledge her without having to turn as he started to pull his breakfast out of the toaster. There was a small clink as Allura set down her mug again. “Are you okay?”

Keith turned around, his waffles abandoned in the toaster. His brows furrowed as he looked at her concerned expression, her own eyebrows dipped inwards.

“I’m fine, I just, uh,” he didn’t know how to breach the subject, “I-is Lance okay?” Allura’s eyebrows jumped up. “It’s just he, uh, kinda snapped at me when I asked yesterday, so I don’t know—I guess I'm just worried?”

“What do you want to know exactly?” Her tone was cold, her back a little straighter than before. Keith could sense how protective she was.

“What’s going on with his family?”

“That is his business, Keith. I can tell you he’s fine, but it’s up to him if he wants to tell you anything.” She stood.

“But—“

“Keith, this is his to reveal, not mine. He’ll tell you if he wants you to know.” She grabbed her phone, turned and left, braided hair swishing behind her.

His waffles were cold.

-

Keith was sitting on the couch nursing his own cup of coffee, cold waffles thrown away, when Shiro came down the stairs. Technically, Keith was on his third cup, having stressed-brewed an entire new pot after his conversation with Allura. She and Pidge had gone home barely ten minutes before Shiro made his appearance. To Keith, it looked like he had just woken up.

“How many cups of that have you drank this morning?” His voice was thick with sleep, proving Keith’s guess. Shiro rubbed an eye as he leaned over the couch.

“S’my third,” Keith replied, a slight bounce to his legs. One was curled up to his chest, the other lazily thrown over the edge of the cushion.

“And your last,” Shiro said, taking this cup out of his hands. Keith made a sound of protest. “Look at you—you’re shaking. No more caffeine.” Keith pulled up his other leg and hugged his knees.

Shiro sat down on the couch after he crossed the space between the living room and the kitchen to place the mug on the island counter. He was on the other side of the three seater from his brother. Keith refused to look him in the eyes—or just look at him at all really—his talk with Allura wass till rushing through his head. Something was _definitely_ up with Lance and Keith was kind of hurt he hadn’t said anything. Yeah, they weren’t the best of friends, but they didn’t hate each other, right? That had to count for something.

“Keith--뭐가 잘못되었나?” Keith stopped moving. He hadn’t noticed how fast his legs were shaking. He kinda cared about Lance, someone who wasn’t family or Pidge—who was basically family—why did that freak him out so much?

“나도몰라.” He really, _really_ didn’t.

“확실합니까?”

“ _Yes_ —Shiro, I’m fine.” His brother eyed him, gave him a look Keith only knew was disbelief. An _I know that’s bull and you know it’s bull, what are you hiding?_ look.

“I’m dropping this because I’m too tired to think—but this isn’t over. We will come back to it.” Shiro said. Keith nodded, his eyes having dropped away with a hint of shame. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go out today, but I think it’s best if we stay in today.”

“나 때문에 집에 머물지 마라, 시로. 나는 혼자가 될 수있다.”

“I’m staying home because I want to.” He was leaning closer to Keith, protective. It made Keith feel like he was back in his senior year of high school—Shiro cared _so much_ about him, to the point where Shiro threatened a handful of other teens who’d made fun of Keith for his English skills. _So protective._

“Do you want to watch Mom’s soaps or something actually good?” Shiro was reaching for the remote. A warmth was filling Keith’s still shaky body from his middle. He could feel a smile start to creep into his lips.

“There’s this drama I found…” he started.

“Say no more.” Shiro was already pulling up Netflix.

-

It wasn’t until half past one pm did they move again. The two had migrated on the couch so that as they laid down, they took up the entire length. Shiro had yanked down the blanket folded over the cushions halfway through the first episode and draped it across the both of their legs. 

The two of them stayed like that until, four episodes in, their mom finally left her room and made them go get some food. She claimed Dad was still asleep and it’s be good to get out of the house.

Shiro drove them to the closest In-N-Out who’s they were both still in their pyjamas. The employees at the window didn’t say anything when they rolled up—Shiro in a baggy tee with a dolphin splayed out on his chest and boxers ‘cause he was too lazy to put on pants, and Keith in a pair of sleep pants with a beaver face pattern he bought when he visited Texas and a hoodie from his university. Neither of them were wearing shoes and their hair was a ratty mess. They laughed the whole way home.

-

The following Monday, Keith dreaded going back into his noon class—the one with Lance and the project they were only halfway through. When Keith sat next to Lance at the table in the back of the room, the air was… tense. Did Allura say something to Lance? She wouldn’t… right?

Keith turned slightly toward Lance, the question hot on his lips, but was interrupted by his professor clapping his hands loudly, the official start to class.

He didn’t get much of a chance to say anything to Lance until the class was half over and he professor stopped his short lesson to allow them some class time to do their work. Lance barely acknowledged Keith beyond what was necessary for their assignment. Keith wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

He pulled out his notebook and got settled to help his partner when his phone buzzed lightly in his pocket. Then it went off again. And then again. And then...again.

And again.

After what seemed like a million messages, it stopped. His professor wasn’t so strict on phone usage, so Keith pulled out his phone, vaguely aware of Lance watching him. Pidge had texted him—five times, not a million.

__**Pidge 12:35pm**  
kieth  
help  
pls  
ur room  
now 

_Shit._

“I, uh,” Keith said, starting to pack his notebooks back up, “ _Shit_ —I have to go.” He tanked his zipper up on his before hastily grabbing his phone.

“Why?” The question was strained—Lance was not happy.

“I just—I gotta go, sorry.” He hurried out the door of the class as fast as he could without running. Though when he made it outside the building, Keith took off in a sprint toward the dorms.

 

Now, Keith was a fast runner, though not the fastest. There were definitely faster runners than he, but Keith prided himself on his sprint. So much so, he was the best sprinter his high school had his senior year. 

He made it halfway across campus in only a couple minutes, where it normally would’ve taken him five if he didn’t run.

_This was special._

He busted through the front doors of his building and raced up the stairs two at a time. This was the only disadvantage to living on the fifth floor—all the stairs. He could feel his thighs burning as he reached the top of the last flight of stairs.

Keith didn’t let his screaming muscles stop him as he hurried across the hall, either. He was lucky to be one of the first doors. Normally, Keith hated this—too many people passing in the dead of night drunk, when he’s trying to sleep.

He threw his door open after rushing to unlock it to find Pidge curled in on themself, leaning against the back of the loveseat. They didn’t look up or  
acknowledge Keith in anyway but the way their shoulders shook a little less told Keith his presence was already helping.

“Tea, honey, no milk?” He dropped his bag at the door after closing it. He didn’t need to see Pidge nodding to know exactly what they wanted. He filled a kettle with water and left it on his electric burner.

“Any reason?” He kept his voice low and level. There was a small grunt from Pidge. “No?” Another, more agreeable sounding grunt. The kettle whistled and Keith fixed himself and Pidge tea. He held one out to them and they took it with a shaky hand.

Keith stepped around his couch with a small, “Can you move?” He sat down and shuffling came from behind him, and soon enough, Pidge was carefully sitting down next to him. He held out a blanket, which they took as well and wrapped themselves up in it. He grabbed the remote to his crappy little tv and turned it on. Keith could feel Pidge relax some next to him. Being friends with them for years, Keith picked up a few tricks to help them out.

-

Keith woke up to the lights out. He was still on his couch, but Pidge wasn’t. Keith took a quick look around the room and found a lump in his bed. _So they took over…_

His phone lit up from on the floor. There were a few texts, the most recent being from a coworker:

 

_**Rolo 1:02am**  
hey man can you take my 12pm shift tomorrow? got family shit_

 

Keith rolled his eyes. Rolo asked him at least once a week to take a shift, so that “family shit” was easily an excuse.

 

_**Keith 1:24am**  
yeah sure man_

_**Rolo 1:24am**  
thanks bud_

 

And there’s all interaction he’ll have with Rolo. There was another couple of messages, one from Shiro about working out and one from Lance. Keith hesitated before he selected the conversation. What if the Allura told him or-or he was going to drop him as a partner? Keith can’t do this on his own!

 

_**Lance 12:46am**  
you free tmrw? let’s meet 2 make up 4 tdy_

_Fuck._

He needs that money.

 

_**Keith 1:26am**  
any chance you’d go to the bookstore on the corner of 86 and Garrison?_

 

Keith plugged in his phone near his bed and flipped down face first back onto the couch. He fell asleep minutes later.

 

_**Lance 2:01am**  
yeah sounds great!_

 

-

Lance didn’t show up until around one. He had woke up late—he was busy studying and it just took _so much time_ and—

Who is he kidding? He was up until four watching this children’s show from the 80s about robot cats It was very stimulating.

 _Especially_ because he was high the whole time.

In any case, he was an hour late and he looked like a mess and he wasn’t even sure he had the right set of notes. Lance woke up at noon and it takes him at least half an hour to get ready on his quick days – today he got ready in about half that.

 

When he burst through the door to the store, he wasn’t expecting even close to what he saw. Lance was expecting something on the lines of Barnes and Noble store, but it wasn’t even close. Not that he been any other bookstores, so he didn’t know what he was expecting.

The store was brightly lit, but the lights were dim in the cluttered space. The walls were filled floor to ceiling with shelves full of books, few of which looked as if they were in English. A couple of tables stood in the center of the cramped room that housed what looked like books on sale. Lance…couldn’t read what it said, it looked to be in the same language he so in those text Keith got from Pidge.

“안녕하세요!” someone called from the room behind the counter.

“Uh, hey,” Lance said and he took another quick look around, “I’m here for Keith?” A face popped into the doorway, the curious peering of an older woman. Her face broke out in recognition before her face disappeared.

“키이스, 그 예쁜 애가 왔어!” is what she yelled directly after her face was gone from view.

“뭐?” came another voice in response. This, Lance recognized as Keith’s.

“당신의 남자 친구! 그의 이름은 뭐니?” the woman called back. Why was Keith taking so long? Her head popped back out. “What is your name?”

“Uh, L-Lance,” he said. “If it’s not a good time—“

“랜스, 랜스!” she said, partially visible. “랜스입니다!” There was a loud bang and something that sounded like Keith cursing before his face popped up beside the woman’s.

“Ah, hey,” he said. Lance could sense some hesitation in his laid-back front.

“So…are you we gonna study Lance asked. “I don’t want to hold you back from your job…”

“No—! It’s fine,” Keit was visibly taken aback by the power of his voice, and to be fair, so was Lance. He’d rarely ever heard him above a quiet indoor voice. “할머니 said it’d be okay.” Keith took a quick glance to the older woman, who was grinning like she won the lottery.

“나는 너를 두 명 남겨 둘거야,” she said to Keith, sending a subtle wink his way. It wasn’t so subtle that Lance didn’t catch it, but enough so he had to question himself on if he actually saw it or if it was just a residual high from the night before. She made her way around the counter to busy herself with fixing the books on the tables in the middle.

“There’s a, uh—there’s a room in the back,” Keith said, pointing behind him, “with a table, uhm…” His eyes were focused on the floor.

“Shall we, then?” Lance asked, motioning to the doorway. Keith nodded, a short and quick shake of his head. He turned around but didn’t move much.

“할머니, 그는 내 남자 친구가 아니야. 그냥 친구 야,” he said to the woman. She only hummed in response . Keith let out a frustrated sigh and walked into the back room with Lance at his heels.

The room was pretty small—it was filled with boxes of books, mostly. There was a table shoved into the far corner with a couple chairs to under it. Like the main store it was cramped—full of book related paraphernalia. There were a couple of notebooks sat on the table next to what Lance recognized as Keith’s laptop.

Keith sat down, motioned for Lance to take the chair immediately to his left, and opened the lid of his laptop. Lance did sit down, but he didn’t take out his notes.

“So, uh,” He started. He was still pretty pissed about Friday, but… That doesn’t stop him from being curious about Keith. “Why here?” The question caught Keith off guard. No doubt he wasn’t expecting it.

“Oh – well… The woman who owns the shop is really nice _and_ she speaks Korean,” he said, eyes trained on the black screen on his computer. “A friend got it for me, actually. I guess 할머니 was so good to me, I stayed.” He grinned to himself, a slight curve of his lips that brightened his already pretty face.

 _OK, so what if he finds Keith attractive—he’s allowed to acknowledge that! It doesn’t mean he has, like a–a_ crush _or anything._

Yeah. He’s good—Lance is _good._

He could feel a quiet heat on his cheeks as he watched Keith. There wasn’t much to look at beyond that precious grin, but Lance was perfect with that.

Keith cleared his throat. Lance got caught staring—not like it was _bad_ but he couldn’t act on it. Admire, don’t touch.

_You’ll be fine._

Sure, Allura.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all the korean:
> 
> 미안- sorry  
> 뭐가 잘못되었나?- what’s wrong?  
> 나도몰라.- i don’t know.  
> 확실합니까?- are you sure?  
> 나 때문에 집에 머물지 마라, 시로. 나는 혼자가 될 수있다.- don’t stay home because of me, shiro. i can be alone.  
> 안녕하세요!- hello!  
> 키이스, 그 예쁜 애가 왔어!- keith, that pretty boy is here!  
> 뭐?- what/who?  
> 당신의 남자 친구! 그의 이름은 뭐니?- your boyfriend! what’s his name?  
> 랜스, 랜스! 랜스입니다!- Lance, Lance! it’s Lance!  
> 할머니- grandma  
> 나는 너를 두 명 남겨 둘거야- i’ll leavw you two alone now  
> 할머니, 그는 내 남자 친구가 아니야. 그냥 친구 야- grandma, he’s just a friend. he’s not my boyfriend.
> 
> thanks for reading!!
> 
> [tumblr](http://pvrkjeup.tumblr.com) (my asks are being eaten, so if you ask a q and it’s been a day, ask again!)


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